Everything
by SporksN'Knives
Summary: 'You're all I want. You're all I need. You're everything, Francis." one-sided FrancexSpain.


Sometimes he wondered if his towheaded friend could ever love him. He wondered if their deeply rooted friendship was as far as anything between them would go. Sometimes Antonio lay awake at night with Gilbert on one side and his beloved Francis on the other, wanting to sleep so that he could dream of the Frenchman, but his mind was nearly always reeling with his thoughts and desires, most of which involved Francis in one way or another.

Deep down, Antonio rather envied Aurthur Kirkland, the object of Francis Bonnefoy's affection. Though the Brit refused all of the blond Frenchman's advances, Francis never stopped trying to win him over, yet another blow to Antonio's heart. Why couldn't his best friend turn that persistence on him? He wouldn't mind, wouldn't turn him down. He would accept any request Francis might make. He would give him anything.

He would give him all his love. All of himself.

All Antonio really wanted was for Francis to notice him and see how much the Spaniard truly loved him. That would be enough for him to go on with his life. Well, maybe. Being loved in return wouldn't be so bad, either. To be loved by Francis was a dream Antonio had desperately wanted to come true for an extremely long time. He had long since lost track of all the accumulating years.

Now, as the Spaniard sat in another bar with a shot of strong liquor standing untouched in front of him, he couldn't help watching his beloved out in the crowd, flirting with various women. Sometimes he wished he could be a woman so that maybe he'd stand a chance of getting some of Francis' heavenly affection.

'Just look over here…' Antonio mentally begged the Frenchman, his eyes fixed on the blond's refined face, which was ornamented with his signature five-o'-clock shadow. That beautiful accent of facial hair. Not too little, not too much. So perfect. Just like Francis and everything about him. 'Speak to me…please. I want to feel you close to me…I need to hear your voice.'

His heart twisted in his chest when Francis lifted a girl's hand to his lips – undoubtedly out of cultural habit rather than affection, but it still hurt Antonio to see those angelic lips touching anything but his own. Having had enough of suffocating in the torturous atmosphere of the club, he left a handful of coins equal to the cost of his several drinks on the counter for the bartender to pick up whenever she happened to walk by.

Thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, Antonio sent one last glance over his shoulder at a laughing, partially drunken Francis before venturing out into the early winter chill waiting just beyond the front door.

Alcohol pulsated in his bloodstream as he aimlessly shuffled along the sidewalk. Snowflakes fluttered and swirled all around his slim, black-clad frame while his breath materialized in a cloud of milky white vapor before his nose and mouth. He lifted his luminous green eyes to the grey, snow-laden clouds to prevent the tears in his eyes from escaping. One still managed to tip over his bottom eyelid and glittered in the lights of store fronts as it trailed across his bronze, child-like face. He didn't bother wiping it away. Every tear that he eliminated was consistently replaced with ten more more in his experience. Antonio lowered his eyes to the street in front of him and kept walking, his thoughts never leaving Francis.

He managed to stumble back to his apartment and collapsed facedown on the sofa. He heaved a sigh and immediately drew in a deep, shuddering breath. He brought his head up a bit, half of his face scrunched up and one eye twitching slightly before he sneezed as a result of the dusty couch cushions. He made a note to remind himself to vacuum it once in a while.

Antonio didn't realize that the alcohol had taken its toll until he found himself stirred back into consciousness by a hearty guffaw, a suggestive laugh, and a mischievous simper. His head was bombarded by sharp pains as he slowly opened his eyes just in time to see Francis vanishing into the bedroom with a busty brunette. Gilbert had plopped down on the couch at his feet, settling in for the night.

Antonio sighed and hauled himself up to sit at the end of the couch opposite the obviously intoxicated Gilbert, pressing his hands to his ears to muffle the sounds of Francis' girl's mewls and giggles.

It should be him spending the night with Francis.

With Gilbert passed out and Francis obviously busy, Antonio rose and stormed to the rickety kitchen table after locating a pen and paper – another bar stub his roommates had yet to pay off. With tears in his eyes, he began scribbling the first words that came to mind.

He slammed the pen down on the table and pinned the receipt to the bathroom door, where he was sure Francis would see it.

_You're all I want. You're all I need. You're everything. EVERYTHING, Francis. _

_ ~Antonio_

With that, the Spaniard slipped into his jacket and set to the door with tears in his eyes, absolutely sure that a few more drinks could at least ease his pain.

* * *

**While I'm not much of a Hetalia fan, I** _**am**_** a fan of several pairings - FrancexSpain being my favorite. I hope you liked it! Reviews are very appreciated. I'd really like _constructive_ criticism since this is my first APH fanfic. :) **


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